


Mad (Violent, Terrifying, Shocking) Love

by rocknrollalien



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:56:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocknrollalien/pseuds/rocknrollalien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stab at a Nolanverse rendition of Mad Love. (The story of Harley Quinn falling in love with the maddest man in Gotham, for those who are unfamiliar with it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mad (Violent, Terrifying, Shocking) Love

Arkham Asylum was in shambles after the near destruction of Gotham. It would seem as if the administrators would have protocols in place for this type of thing by now, but there was none. Most of the medical and psychiatric professionals in the city and surrounding areas had been lynched in recent months, and Arkham had an overabundance of inmates to take care of. The administrators slackened the already less than rigorous entry qualifications, and accepted anyone who had a hint of a degree about their person to help deal with the inmates. 

It was because of this, that the slightly unstable Harleen Quinzel had been hired on, after the…situation with Bane, some months prior. She had a history of anger problems, with occasional mentions of schizophrenia and documented “Daddy issues,” but she had a doctorate in psychology and psychiatry, and was especially educated for dealing with the most dangerous criminals and madmen in the Asylum. An added plus was that she had kept fit through her university years as a champion gymnast, so she could potentially hold her own against an attack, if security couldn’t get there in time.

She was not the most ideal candidate, but she was certainly better than a few.

She was introduced to Arkham Asylum by another female doctor, one who had somehow managed to weather the storm, and had certainly earned the silver streaks polluting her once black hair. Her face was lined far beyond her years, and she didn’t look like someone who’d smiled in recent memory. Arkham could do that to a person.

Parts of the building were still being rebuilt, but there was one area that even in the height of the anarchy, no one had tried to spring open. It was a block of inmates who were too dangerous, even on the terms of criminals and other madmen. Pamely Isley, the botanical scientist who took her field to the extreme. Doctor Victor Fries, in a peculiar ice box of a cell, the doctor who had been wronged. There were others, more villains and thieves and wrong-doers that had harmed society in such a way that even other lowlifes were afraid of them.

Just looking at them as they watched her coldly with the jaded eyes of animals made thrills of excitement shoot through her body. Harleen had no pretentions to saving them, or curing them. She found that the lifestyle of a criminal, as held to such an extreme degree, was fascinating. What things must go through their heads…

Her eyes were drawn to a man with make up smeared across his face, caught in the scars and wrinkles upon his face. His hair looked chlorine stained blonde, and he licked his lips as he looked at her. He sat at the edge of his bunk, his ankles extended beyond the assigned orange jumpsuit, and his hands clasped together. He looked like a villain, that was for sure.

“Is that…” she began to ask, her breath catching in her throat. Terror gripped her. This was the man who had killed so many, and nearly been responsible for the very destruction of Gotham. He’d made Harvey Dent into an abomination, so they said. 

“That’s The Joker. We still don’t have an ID on him, Doctor Quinzel,” the woman guiding her said, pausing in front of his cell speculatively.

The Joker cleared his throat, and tipped his head, looking closely at the blonde doctor in front of the cell.

“Quinzel…” he said, savoring the word in his mouth. His voice was raspy and reminded her of wheat and honey. Goosebumps rose on her arms. “What’s your first name, Doctor Quinzelllll?” he asked, his green eyes focusing in on her blues.

“Harleen,” she said, nervously. She knew that he was the most high risk man in the entire block, and this was the block that was filled to the brim with ‘risk.’

He licked his lips again, before speaking, leaning forwards towards her, as if to simulate confidentiality, “Harleen Quinzel. I like that name, Harleen. It’s unique, it’s frivolous…it’s fun!” He moved his shoulders, in a vague shadow of a dance, and cracked a broad smile at the doctor.

She smiled back, noting the grotesque scars, with the itching question at the back of her mind of how he’d gotten them. Of course, he was a liar. Her breath came short in her chest, she was afraid and excited and she wanted to do a flip and scream. Here was one of the most famous men in Gotham, discussing her name like a normal person would. Surely this didn’t happen to everyone on their first day at Arkham.

He was still looking at her, narrowing his eyes as he waited for a reply.

“I didn’t choose my name…Mostly I go by Harley,” she said. She was just pretending this was a normal conversation with a normal patient who probably wouldn’t gut her like a fish if she made a bad joke.

“Oh Harley, I like that even better. Makes you sound like a clown, hm? Are you a clown, Harley Quinn?” He started to chuckle, under his breath more than anything, at his own joke.

She smiled at him. “I make bad puns, but that’s about the extent of it,” she told him. “I’m more of a laugher than a joker.”

He laughed, louder this time, and slapped his knee. “Oh, I think you’ll do just fine,” he said.

Harleen raised her eyebrows, and opened her mouth to ask what on earth he could mean by that, but her guide tugged her along, checking her watch. They’d spent far too much time on The Joker anyway, and—much like radiation—the more exposure, the more deadly he was.


End file.
